Different Side of Me
by Lyricism
Summary: To the outside, Kakuzu and Hidan hate each other. When they're alone, though, it's a different story. KakuHida.


Akatsuki. The infamous criminal organization with a reputation of killing, kidnapping, and various other felonies. Our members themselves reflect this; Zetsu is cannibalistic, Itachi is responsible for the mass murder of his entire clan, excluding his little brother, and Sasori attacked the Third Kazekage and turned him into a puppet (though he claims it was mostly Orochimaru's doing, most of us know to be false). Needless to say, we are not a romantic group.

I am no exception. The gooey, mindless love stories in the media and in real life make my stomach sick, and I generally think of love as a needless emotion meant to hinder mankind in its assorted ambitions. Of course, the same can be said about every sentiment, but love especially.

And who'd've thought that I'd be the one to fall into the useless feeling.

It happened a few years ago, after I had killed another of my partners. That bastard had tried to steal my money _and _get me to talk about my past. He got what was coming to him.

After being scolded by Pein (our leader) for doing yet another of my coworkers under, he immediately presented me with my next one. "I saw him in a fight, and I think that he's definitely going to be an asset to our organization. Also, something tells me that this will be a very beneficial partnership," he stated, leaving me to acquaint myself with the ninja standing behind him.

He was shorter than me by at least half a meter, which really isn't saying much. I am, abnormally so, three meters tall. His silver hair, shoulder-length, was slicked back away from his eyes, and the pink, three-pronged scythe strapped to his back was recently sharpened. Dressed in a loose white shirt and black cutoff pants, his overall appearance was scrappy at best. Adding to the scruffy look he portrayed, he sat back in his right hip, and I watched as his gaze traveled up and down, apparently making observations.

He continued this for a few minutes. I can't exactly blame him –I'm not exactly normal-looking- but time is money, and I wasn't going to waste it here waiting for my new partner to finish gawking. "Are you quite done?" I asked impatiently.

My next colleague shrugged. "Yeah, I guess," he said, brushing a stray hair from his face. "Name's Hidan."

Hardening my stare, I replied reluctantly. "Kakuzu. Now hurry up. You need to get your uniform, and you've already squandered enough time as it is."

"Well, you certainly get right down to business, don't you? Okay, okay, I'm coming," he said in a cocky tone, following me up to our room. When he thought I wasn't looking, he scoffed. "Just trying to be fucking friendly," he hissed under his breath.

-----

As time went on, Hidan proved to be the most annoying, bothersome person I had ever met. He belonged to a cult religion with lengthy and bloody rituals, which he insisted on performing on missions, holding me up and costing us valuable time. His religion also called for only absolute deaths, therefore I had to wait even _more _for him to make sure that his opponents were dead. And then there was his constant cussing. Honestly, how many times can someone say 'fuck' in a single sentence? He also repeated 'seriously' in almost everything that spewed from his huge mouth. "That's seriously stupid." "Seriously, maybe I don't _want_ to stay in an inn." "That is seriously fucked up." At one point, I was ready and poised to rip out his vocal chords right then and there.

But, the one thing I hated most about the little zealot was his constant whining. "Kakuzu, it's hot." "Kakuzu, it's cold." "Slow down." "Speed up." How about, "Just kill me and save yourself the trouble of getting angry?"

Despite the bitching, strict religion, and aggravating speech habits, something kept me from completely losing it and tearing him limb from limb and boiling the strips of his flesh in cooking oil. Maybe it was the subtle-yet-obvious affection he sent my way. Maybe it was the fact that I could take my anger out on him and be able to put him back together, thus making it guilt-free.

It probably was something else, though.

Whenever we weren't assigned a mission, we (Akatsuki as a whole) hung around the lair and stayed in rooms located in the back of the cave. Though it was cold, damp, and dark, and we all had roommates (with the exception of Zetsu), it was what we called home.

In Hidan's and my room, there are two beds against opposite walls, two dressers, and some candles scattered around the space. Since there are no windows, and neither Hidan nor I enjoy the darkness, we spend very little time in there. On the rare occasion that we are in the room, we normally are sleeping.

One such night, I awoke to wimpering sounds coming from the other side of the dorm. Now, I am one of those people who hates being interrupted during certain things, sleeping being one of them. So, when I was so rudely awakened, I was immediately irritated. It was blatant that Hidan was to one crying –no one else was in the room- and accordingly added one more reason for me to hate the damned religious fanatic. I lit a candle and walked over to my partner, and what I saw cooled my spirits a bit.

He was asleep. Crying in his subconscious. A sign of a weak mind. Just great. Unsure of what to do, I shook him aware. "Hidan. Wake up, you're dreaming," I semi-crooned, refusing to let go of my stone-cold undertone.

He blinked awake, looked at me, and rolled over. "What the fuck do you want?" he asked sourly.

Sour questions get sour answers. "Your crying woke my up. I want you to stop, you fucking little bitch."

Hidan continued sniffling, facing away from me. "Fine," he responded, "but don't wake me up again."

"I'll do whatever I want to get you to shut up," I snapped, doubly bothered by this. I hate getting told what to do by people I see as below me.

My partner scrunched up under his covers. "Shut the hell up, heathen." Ooh, 'hell.' And not, 'you fucking heathen' or 'mother-fucking heathen,' just 'heathen.' He was respecting me.

I decided to see how miserable I could make him. "NO. Now I'll just keep talking and talking and talking until I'm as annoying as-"

"Dammit, I asked you to stop!" Hidan yelled, sitting up and glaring at me through watery eyes.

I laughed at this. "Wow, you've really sunk this time, dear partner," I jeered. I wanted him to get annoyed with me just like I was with him. Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen.

"Stop it!" he insisted, pulling the black blanket over his head. "Stop it, Kakuzu!" Oh, now he was using my name. He was really serious.

But, I didn't care. This was my payback for all the times he'd annoyed me to hell and back. "Heh, yeah, right. Look at you: the once-proud and arrogant Jashin priest is now nothing more than an upset child! Why Leader'd let you in, I'll never-"

"Leave me alone!" he barked, once again glaring angrily at me. His eyes were tearing harder now, making his purple irises- wait, purple? I had never really noticed the color of Hidan's eyes before, mainly because I hadn't cared. But there they were- intensified, lavender, and, dare I say it, beautiful. "For Jashin's sake, leave me be!"

I was speechless. I had never seen him like this. Not only had he not swore, but he hadn't made a snide comment to retort at all. It…intrigued me. Alas, it was at least 2 A.M., and I needed sleep. I decided, as my coworker rolled over again and drifted into slumber, to go back to bed and look into this further on a later date.

------

The next morning, Hidan was back to his overly-confident, bastard self, complete with the crude language, preaching, and anything else that made him who he is. It relieved me, in a way; now I knew that my partner wasn't still an emotional basketcase and wouldn't need any protecting from me. Still, I loathed it. A full-of-himself bastard is a full-of-himself bastard, after all.

There was one thing, however, different with the zealot, and it had everything to do with the way he looked at me. Instead of fostering an egotistical gleam like they normally did, his eyes were somewhat glazed over and passive. For some reason, this bothered me more than Hidan did himself. It nagged and nagged at me until I finally had to ask: "Hidan, what's wrong?"

We were outside at the time, me leaning up against a tree outside the Akatsuki lair and him sitting on the edge of a cliff overlooking the river. Dangling his legs like a kid would, he sent me a confused look. "What makes you think there's something wrong?"

"Well, there's last night, for one, and you've been looking at me weirdly all day," I explained, hoping that this conversation wasn't going to turn into anything awkward.

"How so?" Ah, beating around the bush, were we? Well, I can play that game, too.

I sighed for effect. "Like you don't know. There's something changed about your eyes. Glazed over a bit, I guess."

He looked over the ravine and bit his nail. "There's nothing wrong," he persisted.

"Yeah, I'll believe that when Deidara and Sasori settle one of their arguments on art," I retorted. "Just tell me."

Hidan stood up and began to walk away. "Seriously, there's nothing fucking wrong," he reiterated.

I held onto one of his ankles –I don't remember which one- with a black tentacle. "And where do you think _you're _going?" I asked, challenging him. "You never answered my question."

He vainly tried to shake his ankle free. "There's nothing wrong," he said again, "and if there was, you wouldn't care much, anyway. Fuck, let go, heathen."

I shook my head. "Not until my question has a liable answer."

"It already fucking does!"

"No, it doesn't. It's not the truth."

"You seriously won't care."

"Try me."

Hidan sighed, giving up. "Fine, but if you laugh, make fun of or otherwise make me feel inferior, I reserve the right to sacrifice you to the great Jashin-sama. Got it?"

"Whatever. Just start talking."

And that's when I learned almost everything about my partner. The talk wasn't as long as I expected it to be and it was borderline interesting. According to him, Hidan grew up in a remote village located in the Land of Rain, and that he was ostracized because of his odd eye color. He was always alone, and by the time he turned 13, he was bona fide suicidal. In fact, he told me, he was about to go bleed himself to death by cutting his wrist and soaking it in the river on the other side of town when he came across an interesting-looking building. Well, said building had been a Jashin church.

When he learned about the cult religion, it was like his prayers had been answered, so to speak. His family had never been very spiritual, so the concept of a god that could help you absolutely thrilled him. It gave him something to work for, something to hold dear. Disregarding the fact that being a Jashinist made you immortal, the religion saved his life.

Hidan's father, being used to having his son under his thumb, abhorred this. He was extremely forward with is disapproving thoughts, also: he would take every chance he got to poke fun at the underground faith. In addition, after he had converted, nothing Hidan did seemed to please his father. It didn't matter how heroic, good-natured, or well-meaning it was; the patriarch simply detested the cult, and, in turn, hated Hidan.

He had been carrying the emotional pain of being a loser in his old man's eyes, he assumed, and that I had caught him at a bad time.

After hearing this, I promptly apologized. Not having a perfect childhood myself (two words: child abuse), I hadn't realized what I was doing.

He shrugged and accepted the apology. "It's okay," he reassured. "It's not like you insulted Jashin-sama or anything."

------

In the time that followed, Hidan and I were enemies in public. We criticized each other, made fun of each other, and carried out threats on one another. To the outside world, we were the same as we had been before that incident.

Privately, in our room with the candles unlit, we were completely different people. Hidan, I figured out, was not a complete asshole, and was actually an extremely loyal, sensitive person. I myself was much less of a sadist, and began to act like something out of a teenage romance novel- a euphoric, carefree kid (or as much of a kid as someone my age could be). The only thing was…I wasn't acting. I was being a part of myself that I had never known before- a different side of my own personality, and I can't help but think that Hidan was the same way.

Soon, what started as hugging became holding, and what was holding became kissing, and so on. Oddly enough, neither of us felt awkward. This was what we both wanted, what we both longed for, and we were finally getting it. As mush as I hated to admit it, I was in heaven.

Hidan made me happy, something I hadn't been in a long, long while, but…we were shinobi. Criminals. And, most of all, men. Shinobi weren't supposed to bear emotion, criminals weren't supposed to have love affairs with their partners-in-crime, and men weren't supposed to love one another. Yet, he and I were breaking all of those unspoken rules. If the rest of the Akatsuki found out, we were done for. We both knew it, and that was why we kept yelling, cussing at and attacking each other out in the open. To keep people thinking that we hated each other.

But, on those rare occasions that we should go to bed in the dark, dank room, we are together again, in each other's arms. I run my fingers through his soft, silken hair while he traces my long, ropey stitches, and I am, once again, myself, with the one person who can bring out a different side of me.

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Reviews make both Hidan and Kakuzu feel special.


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